by P. A. DePaul
“I’ll ask Agent White to help me,” Wraith replied, already backing away toward the stairs.
The second she was out of earshot, the attendant whistled and exclaimed, “Dah-yam. My balls are sweating, she’s so hot.” The kid grinned at him. “Think I have a shot?”
Cappy snorted despite the anvil parked on his ribcage. “Not even a little bit. She’s very taken by a six-foot-three former Marine who’s kept in top shape.”
“Shit. It figures.” He exhaled.
They both watched Wraith approach the small group near the stairs. Her phone dangled in one hand and her shoulders were as stiff as her gait. Good. She read the message.
Romeo stopped the mechanic from climbing the stairs. The mystery man conversed with the old man for the length of time it took for Wraith to insert herself into the bunch. The unknown man then raised a hand, gave a small wave, then left, walking in front of the plane and disappearing out of sight.
One down, three to go.
Chapter 37
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
Michelle pressed her hands against the cold metal on the side of the cargo hold and closed her eyes. Her heart pounded so hard, the blood rushing past her eardrums virtually drowned out the noises outside.
She yanked the stupid headphones down to hang around her neck and inhaled deeply through her nose. She did it. She had forced herself to get out of the truck and walk up the conveyor when all she wanted to do was stay in the SUV. Every second of that long walk she kept thinking someone was going to spot her and put her under arrest, then put Cappy and the others under arrest for aiding her.
Handcuffs. She shuddered, feeling a phantom metal bracelet encircling her wrist. The terror of someone locking her in a pair of those things again had motivated her to keep moving forward like nothing else.
Unable to stand up fully, she patted at the sweat pooling between her breasts and dripping down her stomach. Blech. She inched her feet out in front of her until she flattened her back against the outside wall. Ah. Much better. Her spine had started aching from remaining hunched over like Quasimodo.
The door to the cargo hold split the whole space in half. The other side was empty and had a large net with wide blue nylon straps stretched from side to side, floor to ceiling, and secured by metal clips like those found on a dog’s leash. On her side, the nylon net dangled on the far side, leaving the entry open for their non-existent luggage. Thank God she hadn’t had to mess with unhooking the net to get inside. Her nerves probably wouldn’t have been able to handle the delay.
“Phase one down,” she whispered, leaning her head back, then tipped the brim of her hat up to see better. “Now to figure out how to accomplish phase two.”
A square, approximately two feet in diameter, was cut into the ceiling above her. Geez, Cappy had said the fit would be tight.
She slid the black duffel against the wall to her left. A vision of her tangling her feet into the straps and falling out of the cargo hold flashed before her eyes. Yeah. That’d be something she would do and an excellent way to get caught.
“Mechanic needs to fix a seal on the front toilet or the pilots aren’t cleared for takeoff.” Cappy’s deep, gravelly voice drifted in from the opening.
She jerked toward the sound. What? Her stomach cramped. A mechanic’s boarding the plane? What did that mean for her? Did she still open the hatch, or wait? She eyed the portal to freedom above her again. Her instincts said she should wait, but the fear wrapping around her body pushed really hard for her to escape the cramped compartment.
Sweat of a different kind coated her palms and leeched the warmth from her fingers. Son of a duck. She wasn’t cut out for this.
Silence reigned. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Why the heck couldn’t she hear Jeremy anymore? She pressed her ear to the metal.
Cappy’s voice was faint but grew louder, as if he was moving toward the cargo entrance.” . . . no baggage.”
“Ah. That’s cool with me,” a second voice answered. A youthful male, if she had to hazard a guess.
She couldn’t hear anything for a moment. Dots blinked before her eyes, and the walls felt like they were closing in. The skin around her wrist pinched. She jumped and glanced down but the area was smooth. Frick. Too much talk about handcuffs today and trying to get her in them brought the pain of Colombia too close to the surface.
“Sorry, but I’ve got to keep this section secure. Can’t let anyone up in here,” Jeremy stated in his commanding tone. By the clear way she could hear him, he had to be standing beside the conveyor.
“I gotta secure it, man,” Second Voice complained.
“No problem,” Cappy answered with an easy tone. “Tell me how to release the door off the hook inside, then you can do your thing.”
Michelle rubbed her wrist and kept her gaze glued to the opening. The sunlight beyond beamed like a beacon, fueling her fear to get free of the space.
Suddenly, Cappy’s large body filled the opening, chasing the shadows and sounds of Colombia into the recesses of her mind. She coiled to leap toward him but the quick, miniscule shake of his head forestalled her feet from actually moving.
The troubled regret radiating from his eyes leadened her heart.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.
Oh God. For what? The mac-and-cheese turned to stone.
“Man, it’s the button on the lever. Don’t you see it?” Second Voice called in exasperation.
Cappy winced and peered over his shoulder. “Sorry, just taking a look at the space.” He reached up to the door attached to the ceiling.
She swallowed, her eyes fixed on every tiny movement he made.
He looked at her again and mouthed, “Hang tight. I’ll get you out as soon as I can.”
Oh no. No. NO. He couldn’t mean to trap her in here! Thick fogginess edged her vision and the memories she had thought she’d escaped bubbled at the edge of her consciousness.
The outline of a lever was flush with the door. The moment Jeremy’s finger pressed a button within the lever, a handle popped out.
She watched in horror as the door unlatched from the ceiling, transferring its weight to Jeremy. He smoothly guided the door down on its top hinge, never taking his anguished eyes off her. He eventually had to duck away, disappearing from her sight completely and with each horrific second, the compartment got darker and darker until total blackness.
Jesus God and the Apostles.
Every muscle in her body froze. Her breaths came out so hard she was now robbed of two of her senses: sight and sound. A loud thwump slapped against the door, vibrating the wall she leaned against. She squealed at the ominous terror skittering down her spine. So many sensations hit her at once she thought she’d lose her mind trying to process them. She had to pee. Badly. What about air? Did she have enough? They wouldn’t take off while she was still in here, would they?
The darkness felt like it was trying to swallow her whole. Her wrist pinched again and she grabbed the appendage trying to fight the memory from overlapping with reality.
“You’re fine,” she whispered, sliding to the floor then cradling her head. The memories of her captivity danced through her mind, sapping her strength to beat them back.
Her leg throbbed and she felt a cool, seeping sensation on her shin.
Blood. Dear God. She was bleeding.
Her captors loved to make her bleed. Would they use the whip this time or the hot poker?
She curled into herself, trying to make a smaller target. If she stayed still, maybe they would leave her alone.
They never did.
Chapter 38
Cappy prowled one end of the cabin to the other.
Tinkering and banging echoed out of the lavatory stationed between the flight attendant’s galley and the main cabin. The thirty-two-inch flat-screen TV mounted on the bathroom’s outer
wall blathered on with today’s headline news, but he couldn’t pay attention.
Michelle was trapped inside the cargo hold. By herself. In the dark. And he had closed the door.
Son of a bitch.
His gait ate up the lushly carpeted aisle again. Scraping his fingertips over his shorn hair, he ignored the Senator seated in an oversized leather chair within a group of four surrounding a table against the right wing’s windows. Anger and grief clung to the man like a cologne. Understandable, but not what Cappy needed to deal with right now. Magician perched on the edge of a recliner stationed opposite the Senator’s seating group. Her baby-blue irises were wide, telegraphing her own worry as she nibbled her bottom lip.
He passed between a set of couches anchored behind the chairs and stopped when he reached the door leading to a decent-sized bedroom. A full bathroom, including a shower, was tucked away within the room, but he couldn’t marvel at the opulence.
Michelle was trapped inside the cargo hold. By herself. In the dark.
He let out a low growl at the repeating mantra.
Wraith came out of the back bathroom and skirted around the bed. She also radiated worry and apprehension.
Fuck. If it had been one of his operatives in the hold, he wouldn’t be overly bothered. They could handle themselves and had been trained to deal with much worse conditions. They’d also have faith he’d get them out.
Michelle was a civilian. A survivor of hell, yes, but a woman who should be coddled and showered with love and respect. Not locked away in a cargo hold by the man who she called on when she needed help.
Bitter helplessness pervaded his mind. Damn, he hated this.
Sounds from the engines and wings continued to permeate the cabin as the pilots ran through their checklist. Was she scared they’d take off and leave her in the compartment? He glared at the wood paneling lining the bedroom walls. Oh shit. What if this triggered an episode? The grip on his hips tightened.
In these nine minutes, he’d aged about ten years.
“That’ll do it,” the mechanic called, stepping out from the lavatory with his red toolbox and wide smile.
Cappy stalked up the aisle.
“Ten minutes total,” the old man joked after looking at his watch. “Not bad.”
It had felt like ten hours.
The mechanic peered around him. “Where’s the stewardess . . . I mean flight attendant?”
“She has the night off,” Cappy barked, wondering how fast he could hustle the guy off without looking overly suspicious.
“Oh yeah?” The old man played with his hat. “Who’s going to seal the door?”
Cappy stopped just at the edge of the opening. You can’t toss him off. “Can you do it?”
“Uh, no.” The mechanic scratched his thumb over his chin, leaving a mark. “I’m just the grease monkey. You need someone qualified.”
Cappy pushed past the man and banged on the door to the pilot’s area.
Too many seconds later, a man in his thirties peeked his head out. “Help you?”
“Need you to seal the outer door.”
The pilot’s eyes widened.
Probably Cappy’s barking tone. Whatever. Michelle was trapped inside the cargo hold. By herself. In the dark.
“It’s okay,” a second man’s voice said from behind the pilot. “I can finish this part on my own.”
“Yes, Captain.” The man slid out and shut the door behind him.
Cappy stalked the two men’s footsteps and allowed his impatience to shine.
His being an asshole worked. The two men hustled toward the door and within moments, the thing was shut and locked. The sucking-vacuum sealing the area was the sweetest sound.
The pilot turned and almost jammed his nose into Cappy’s shoulder. “Oh. Excuse me.” He hastened to back up.
“I have to check one more area,” Cappy snapped, not giving a damn about niceties. “The safety hatch into the cargo hold. We didn’t bring luggage so I need to ensure it’s still empty before we lift off.”
“Oh.” Confusion and bewilderment crossed the guy’s face, but he didn’t challenge the lame story. “You’ll find it under the coffee table in front of the left wing’s couch. Fasteners are on the insides of each leg, so you can move it out of the way.”
Cappy didn’t wait to hear another word. He pushed past the pilot and stormed to the back of the plane.
Magician and Wraith were already at work unlocking the table and had it moved to the side by the time he dropped to the floor. A section of the rug had been cut neatly enough to blend in with the rest but the outline of the hatch could be seen now that he knew to look for it.
“Pilot’s clear,” Senator Harris remarked from his seat facing front. “I’ll keep watch on them but I don’t think we’ll have an issue. These guys are paid handsomely to not notice anything.”
Cappy dug his fingers along the edge of the carpet block and was rewarded with a satisfying riiiiiipppppp of Velcro releasing its hold. A lever, flush with the metal, looked like a gift from the gods. Already knowing what he needed to do, he depressed the button and cranked on the raised handle. A hiss of air blasted through the room as he yanked the lid open and allowed it to crash onto the floor by its side hinge.
“Michelle,” he called into the darkness, holding back his bellow since he couldn’t afford the pilots’ hearing the commotion. No answer. Fuck! “Michelle, it’s Jeremy.”
Nothing.
He flattened to the floor and stuck his head through the opening. At first he didn’t see anything, then his heart seized.
“Goddamn it,” he exploded in a quiet roar to the others. “She’s gone into another episode.” He could just make out her face where she huddled on the floor under him. Switching positions, he thrust his feet through the opening. The fit was tight but he managed to wiggle through and jump to the floor.
Instead of thrashing and yelling, she was catatonic. Obviously reliving some goddamn torture in her head.
“Michelle, it’s Jeremy,” he soothed, his heart now lodged in his throat. “Come on, love, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” He crept closer, careful not to crowd her but needing to touch her.
He knelt by her side and lifted her while continuously repeating his name.
Her whole body jerked and her head dropped onto his shoulders. He swept the hat off and as if someone hit her with a Taser she inhaled loudly, yelling, “Jeremy!”
“I’m here,” he answered gently, his heart breaking for her. It was his goddamn fault she relived that hell. It didn’t matter that he had no other choice that wouldn’t expose them all; he was the one who closed the door, sealing her in the darkness.
She fisted his shirt and rubbed her face into his neck.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated, aware the pilots probably had a sensor on the door. “Want to get out of here?”
He could feel her eyelashes sliding across his skin as she blinked rapidly. The delicate movement lit the caveman instinct that had been roaring just underneath the surface the whole time. His body hardened and the urge to claim her, mark her as his, surged through every cell.
NO. He clamped down on his instincts. Now was not the time, nor did he feel like having another exhausting internal debate as to why he couldn’t have her.
A tremble washed over her whole body and he closed his eyes in shame.
“Yeah,” she answered, her voice weak but not feeble. Pride chased away his inner demons. Damn, he loved this woman.
“Let’s get out of here,” she continued, her tone a little stronger.
“Your wish is my command,” he joked, getting his feet under him. “I’ll go first. Then I’ll help pull you up, okay?”
“Fine.”
He gathered the hat and spotted the faint outline of the duffel. Gripping the handles, he started to toss it up when
he stopped short. Wraith’s and Magician’s faces filled the square opening.
“Look out,” he warned, “items coming up.”
They cleared out and he tossed the stuff up.
It took a few minutes but he managed to wiggle back through the frame and pull Michelle out of the compartment. She plopped onto the leather couch and rested her head against the back. Exhaustion ringed her eyes and her skin was too pale for his liking, but she didn’t seem destroyed. His little warrior.
“Let’s never do that again,” she said, causing everyone but the Senator to chuckle.
Magician slammed the portal shut and locked the handle back into place, covering it with the carpet until it disappeared from sight again.
As if that was the signal the pilots had been waiting for, the intercom crackled to life. “The tower has cleared us for takeoff. Please fasten your seatbelts. We’re approaching the runway.”
Wraith and Magician scrambled to relock the table into place while Cappy led Michelle to a chair seating against the window. He dropped into the spot beside her, opposite the Senator, and locked his seatbelt. Wraith and Magician sat in the recliners in the aisle next to them, and moments later they were in the air.
Silence reigned in the cabin as the plane continued to climb to its destined height. Senator Harris lifted a leg and rested his ankle against his knee. The lines around his eyes seemed to deepen and a ragged, frayed edge surrounded the grieving man. From the moment Michelle flopped into her chair, the politician had kept his focus solely on her.
Unease stirred in Cappy’s gut.
The plane leveled out and the FASTEN SEATBELT signs above the windows dinged off.
“Now that I have your undivided attention, Michelle, I have a set of my own questions,” the Senator stated coldly.
Michelle’s body tensed. She gripped the armrest and turned away from the window, meeting the man’s stare head-on.
“Is now really the best time?” Cappy asked. “She just got free from the hold and is still recovering—”